


Youngest and Smartest

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beleriand, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, First Age, Gardens & Gardening, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Loyalty, M/M, Oath of Fëanor, Silmarils, Valinor, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-17 22:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: Erestor decides to tell Glorfindel how he ended up in the House of Elrond.  And Glorfindel tells a story about plants, his family and Valinor.





	1. It was a poor day for Erestor and gravity.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for: mention of sex, injuries, children in bad situations, mental health problems. As always, please message me if you have questions about the content.

So far, it was a terrible day. Erestor admitted that the first part was probably his own fault for not keeping his mouth shut and instead telling his squad leader that leaves were obviously green in color because they were absorbing every color of sunshine EXCEPT green. And he admitted that calling the other elf ignorant and unobservant because he didn’t know sunlight came in colors was probably uncalled for. And then when the fight began, saying that he was too dumb to learn to read had only made it all worse.

The second part was directly related to the first. The watch commander sent him to the top of the highest tree in that section of forest around Amon Ereb to scout rather than getting a break and lunch. Apparently he, “Could keep climbing tall pine trees until he learned to NOT say what was in his head.” Whether the other elf deserved it or not. 

The third part was a direct consequence of parts one and two. He fell out of the tree when one of the upper branches snapped. He managed to catch himself on the way down, and snapped several other branches as he lost momentum. Still face first. As a consequence, instead of fracturing his skull or breaking his neck he merely had two black eyes, a bloody nose and two sprained wrists.

The fourth part was once again in direct result of one, two and three. But much more lasting. 

Erestor lay on the bed in the Healing Hall. He stared at the healer, Lord Maedhros, Lord Maglor and the feet of those two peredhel children they had taken hostage during Sirion four months ago, listened to the discussion over his head and worked hard at NOT opening his mouth. 

Lord Maedhros stared intently down at him and his collection of ice bags as if observing an interesting experiment. “Erestor doesn’t seem that badly injured, I think he’d make a great practice subject. If they mess up will it damage him more?”

The healer seemed slightly unnerved, “Uh… No, it’s instinctive to put everything back the way it should be, especially on minor injuries. The danger is that it is easy to over-drain yourself on serious injuries. My Lord, most elves with healing talents start to train their talent when they get older.”

Lord Maedhros said, “These two have manifested them now, so I want them trained before one of them tips over again because the other skinned a knee.” 

The healer bowed.

Lord Maglor said, “His injuries are very symmetrical. Each twin can get an eye and a wrist.” Then, turning to the elflings hiding inside his over-robe, “Elrond, Elros? Do you want to come out? We found a soldier for you to practice healing on.”

There was silence from the inside of the robes. Then a black haired head popped out and stared at Erestor. Lying on the bed, Erestor and the twin (whichever it was) were about even eye height. They stared at each other in silence for a moment and then the big gray eyes turned up to stare at Lord Maglor and Lord Maedhros. 

Lord Maedhros smiled and said, “Elrond, do you want to try? If you can fix his eye and his wrist you can have a cookie.”

Elrond stared at Erestor for a moment more and then turned to Lord Maglor again and nodded his head. Lord Maglor said, “Okay, let me just lift you up onto the bed so you can see.”

Outside of Lord Maglor’s robes, Elrond looked like a typical but tiny and delicate Noldor-prince elfling. He could be one of the Sons of Feanor in miniature except for a certain vague cast of face and ears that hinted at the Man and Maia bloodlines. Elrond folded up into tidy ball like a kitten with his feet tucked under him and stared silently at Erestor as he was set on the bed close to the foot.

Lord Maedhros said, “This is Erestor, he had a bad day and fell out of a tree. Can you introduce yourself?”

Erestor debated what would happen if he ran.

***

Erestor was sprawled on a bed in the Healing Hall contemplating the ceiling. Stupid horse, practice riding Sylvan style without a saddle or bridle was hard enough without the horse balking at a jump in the middle of the course. Erestor, balanced for the jump at a gallop, was not balanced for a sudden halt. 

His mate and several of the Guard had loaded him gently onto a stretcher and hauled him inside to Elrond. Elrond healed the broken bones, now all he had to do was wait for the pain killing tea to take effect for the bruises and stiff muscles. (Which Erestor had to agree, would be a waste of healing as most would be gone by tomorrow.) At least he hadn’t given himself a concussion on top of everything else.

Glorfindel had kissed Erestor on the forehead and left him with Elrond. Elrond was still at the bench across from the beds, doing something obscure with glassware. He decided he would just lie there for a little while.

He wondered where Glorfindel was now, but everything hurt too much to bother reaching down their bond. His mate would show up sooner rather than later. 

The ceiling had gotten slightly fuzzy and the pain a little better when he heard the door, and a conversation out of view by virtue of the fact he had closed his eyes to shut out the fuzzy ceiling. 

Glorfindel slid into the chair next to the bed, “How do you feel? Do you need more tea? Elrond said I can take you to our rooms but that you were to lie there and sleep for today.” 

As he spoke he reached out and smoothed Erestor’s hair. The pain immediately started to recede. Erestor thought that it was good Glorfindel had practiced NOT healing people, otherwise they would both need a serious nap for the relatively minor remaining injuries. Glorfindel had gotten pretty good at simply blocking pain with his healing gift though, and that didn’t seem to knock him out so fast. 

“Let’s go home.” As he tried to sit up, Glorfindel pressed him down again.

“I’ll carry you.” Erestor immediately went limp on the bed again. From Erestor’s point of view the only thing better than being carried by his mate was being carried off by his mate somewhere for sex. Which he suspects is off the list of projects until things like collar bones, ribs and hips don’t hurt. 

Elrond got the doors (and stifled snickers) and soon Erestor was ensconced in the quiet of his own rooms and bed. After Elrond left, Glorfindel removed overtunic and boots and climbed in next to Erestor, sliding around so that Erestor was safely tucked into his arms.

They lay that way for a moment and then Erestor said, “Is Madha okay? It’s not like her to shy like that at a jump.” He suspected that’s where Glorfindel had gone after dropping him off with Elrond. 

“I checked her over, and took her to a farrier. One of her front shoes had started to come loose.”

Erestor protested, “I checked her shoes before we went out!” It was a regularly scheduled morning training ride: Take a group of the Guard through the loud parts of Lindon and then finish up by practicing out in the big field. 

“I think it must have started to come loose during the ride through Lindon. The first couple of jumps loosened it just enough to hurt as she came up to that one.”

Erestor sighed. For all the grumbling, he loves his horse. “I’ll go and apologize to her tomorrow.”

Glorfindel chuckled, “I would, she seemed quite offended that you ended up in a heap next to her like that.”

Finally, Glorfindel said into the comfortable silence. “I was thinking, after that last trip…. Will you tell me how you and Elrond met? And how you got to be Steward?”

Erestor sighed, before the incident with the greenhouses last fall he had hoped he could just forget about the First Age in its entirety. Thinking about that, it isn’t really fair to his mate though…. And parts keep coming back to haunt them.

In addition, it would be a nice distraction for Glorfindel from the thunderstorm he suspects (by clouds) will blow up this afternoon. It is the season and even after all these years his mate does better NOT focusing on thunderstorms. (And Glorfindel appears to have handed his duties off to his second in command for the day, leaving him without his usual distractions.)

So today is as good a day as any. He turned to snuggle a little farther into Glorfindel’s arms and started to talk. 

***

Elros and Elrond both each healed an eye and a wrist. And then were carried off in Lord Maglor’s arms, tired and patiently waiting for their cookies. Erestor hadn’t heard either one of them speak a word during their little adventure in healing.

Because of Erestor’s tendency to get into trouble, he soon saw both of them again. 

A handful of years later he was called into Lord Maedhros’ office and discovered both Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor waiting for him. In formal Quenya (rather than the pidgin Quenya-Sindarin mix normally used around the fort), Lord Maglor said, “Is it true you have learned both Sindarin and Quenya reading and writing?” 

Erestor took a deep breath and responded in polite mode, formal Quenya, “Yes my Lord, I have been reading the books on grammar in the open section of the library.”

Lord Maedhros smiled in delight. “Very good Little Erestor!” He had been Little Erestor to Lord Maedhros since growing up in Himring. Being the youngest soldier in residence after Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Doriath and Sirion had wiped out his contemporaries meant that the appellation simply stuck. 

***

Glorfindel said, “Wait, Nirnaeth Arnoediad? How old were you?”

Erestor said, “Seventy-one,” and shrugged. He had been strong enough to wield knives and a bow, and so had been added to the armies. He still wasn’t sure how he had survived the bloodbath.

***

Lord Maglor said, “We have a proposal.” Both of the elf lords beamed at him.

Erestor blinked nervously, he was sure this had to do with the Twins. And while the repeated healings didn’t hurt (at least the healing part, the injuries were painful) he was leery that this proposal was going to require more.

“Did you see the new star last night?” Lord Maedhros sounds vaguely curious. 

“Yes, my Lord?” Everyone had seen the star sail past. The watch had sounded the alarm for the star thinking it was a potential dragon attack.

“That was the Silmaril of Elwing. I think it is safe to say that we have adopted Elrond and Elros.”

“Yes, my Lord?” Erestor hoped the Oath didn’t mean that they would one day have to figure out how to reach the heavens to fight against stars. 

Lord Maglor leaned forward with the bright smile that Erestor suspected was meant to be disarming but instead caused vague alarm. “We already have tutors and the boys are being trained as proper elf lords. But, they don’t have any competition in scholastics except with each other.” He gave Erestor a patently exaggerated sad look, “And that’s not healthy.”

Lord Maedhros sighed at his brother and his minor theatrics and said, “Erestor, how would you feel about sharing Elrond and Elros’ tutors and lessons in exchange for being competition?”

“Um, my Lord? You do realize I’m an adult?” Erestor supposed it was possible that Lord Maglor had missed that part but Lord Maedhros was usually very observant. Hopefully, this wasn’t some sort of weird reaction to having a Silmaril floating around the sky out of reach.

“And the smartest and best educated of the soldiers we have left. Wouldn’t you like learning new things and free run of the entire library?” Lord Maedhros sounded puzzled that Erestor would have any questions at all about the arrangement.

The library was the breaking point. 

Even with foster fathers who read to them, told stories, went for walks and cuddled them and lessons of every sort, Elros and Elrond were lonely for someone closer to their own age. The youngest soldier in the fortress, despite being much, much older than them, was easy to make friends with. Or maybe, it was the common love of learning all three had. 

Erestor spent years learning everything with Elros and Elrond and as a debate partner, practice pells, and opponent in strategy games. And he spent his free time reading and reading. It was busy because he still went on patrol, only now as a guard for the twins. Eventually, Lord Maedhros laughed and told Erestor to study anything he wanted while Elros and Elrond were learning with the healers. 

Then, slightly inexplicably said, “I will teach you. Bring the books and a slate to my office while the Twins are in the Hall,” when he mentioned he couldn’t find a tutor for advanced algebra and geometry. 

It turned out that while Elros and Elrond both had the Sight and the ability to heal, they had different strengths. Elros had stronger Sight. Elrond a definite and major talent for all types of Healing and healing.

Elros regularly woke up from nightmares of being underwater. Lord Maglor and Lord Maedhros occasionally worried that Elros would disappear into his visions and fail to return but they didn’t have any idea of how to train him. None of the remaining healers or any other person in the fortress had anything similar. In fact, the only elf they knew of who had a similar talent, was living, AND in Middle Earth was Lady Galadriel.

They weren’t sure if Lady Galadriel would help them (or at least Elros and Elrond, they didn’t expect her to do anything except at best spit on THEM) but couldn’t even ask as they couldn’t figure out how to get a message to her without a potential bloodbath. Having Elros and Elrond simply ride into the remains of Sirion and look for a ride to the Isle of Balar (her last known location) was unacceptable to everyone.

Because he was there, Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor occasionally used Erestor as the example in trying to convince a stubborn Elrond and Elros to do something. 

One day, the Twins had argued that they didn’t want to learn to swim while clothed and with weights. Lord Maglor patiently explained that it was training for when they wore armor. They objected that it was heavy and made swimming no fun. Lord Maglor had sighed, spun with deadly grace, grabbed Erestor by the belt holding his tunic over his chain mail, and flung him headlong into the river. 

His head broke the water in time for him to hear, “Now look, if Erestor couldn’t swim with weights he would’ve drowned falling in like that.”

Erestor, who could swim perfectly well, had swum to shore and climbed out in an evil mood. Drying and re-oiling chain mail takes time and effort. Not to mention his knives were now full of water. The idea of the walk back to the fort with wet under-padding chafing him the entire way wasn’t making him very happy either. 

He trudged dripping back up the bank to rejoin Lord Maglor and the Twins in time to discover that the argument (rather than dying down) had become much more heated.

“Ada that was mean. You should apologize.” For an elfling whose head still only came up about to Lord Maglor’s elbows, Elrond could sound scathing. 

“Ada, you keep telling us that when we have vassals to be fair to them.” In contrast, Elros sounded deeply disappointed by the stunt. 

Lord Maglor stood at bay between the two, obviously wondering exactly how he’d ended up in the wrong. 


	2. War in Beleriand

Eventually though, it had to end. Life was getting harder and harder in Beleriand. The wild game slowly vanished in the face of the War and spreading evil from Morgoth. The weather became violent and unpredictable. Amon Ereb had to be abandoned and the Feanorians had taken to roving to find enough food and shelter to survive.

Even when shoved all the way back to the Western Sea they desperately avoided contact with other elven groups, who would likely attack on sight. They equally desperately looked for food. Any Feanorians that could be easily mistaken for noncombatant refugees from another Noldor allegiance (or Sindar) were smuggled into other groups and relative safety.

Even as protected as Elros and Elrond were, they began to fight in the near daily skirmishes against Morgoth’s creatures simply because it was that or die. Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor worried constantly about them getting enough food and many of the soldiers in the roving company had taken to making sure “their little stars” were always in the warmest spots by the fires. 

And worse yet, as the battles began to turn in favor of the elves and Ancalagon the Black was destroyed it started to become obvious that the Oath had again begun to push Maedhros and Maglor. It started with tiny minor ticks, but as the Silmarils were captured it quickly escalated.

Elrond and Elros were terrified, they had never seen their foster fathers so restless and snappy. And Lord Maedhros banished them to their own tent. They curled up together and then begged hugs from Erestor as they hadn’t done in years when he went to check on them.

Erestor was called to talk to Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor in their tent later that evening after the Twins fell asleep. 

He watched Lord Maedhros pace without moving from where he’d stopped just inside the tent. Lord Maglor was sitting slumped at their makeshift table, before his clasped hands and bowed head a belt knife was driven almost to the hilts into the wood. Occasionally his shoulders twitched as if he were cold. 

“Little Erestor, how are you this evening?” asked Lord Maedhros. 

The greeting was delivered in a predatory purr that frightened him. He glanced up and recognized the look in those eyes: a monstrous heat capable of absolutely anything to reach its goal. It was the look that had been there before Doriath and Sirion. Underneath, was the stark terror of an elf being dragged to their doom. There were lines of stress around his eyes and his pacing was jerky like Lord Maedhros was being dragged back and forth across the tent.

To Erestor, the only reassurance he had was that HE didn’t hold a Silmaril. And they had never yet killed one of their own soldiers for obeying instructions. It was a shaky reassurance in the presence of two half-mad elf lords with enough surplus power to kill him without a second thought. 

Erestor’s mouth opened and shut. For once, he had nothing to say. 

Lord Maedhros continued as if he had added to the conversation. “Tomorrow Elrond and Elros are going to Gil-galad.”

Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor had tried several times before, without success, to hand Elros and Elrond over to another (hopefully safer) group of elves. The Twins always reacted with tears and straight panicky refusal. Looking at the two elf lord brothers being dragged by the Oath, Erestor thought that maybe they were all a little too loyal. 

“Maglor will take them to the bend three miles down the river for a picnic and then I’ll pull troops back so that Gil-galad’s can move in and capture them. From there they will likely be taken to the main Noldor encampment in the east. Gil-galad has already promised to make them his wards in the name of Earendil and Elwing.”

“Yes, my Lord?” Erestor frantically tried to sort through ideas and figure out why they would tell him. 

Lord Maedhros stopped pacing directly in front of Erestor and turned so that he was looming, his head tilted a little like a wolf examining a tidbit. Erestor fought not to back up or flee. “Little Erestor, you have never known anything except war and the Oath. What would you do if you were free?”

“Free? My Lord?” Looking up into those desperate eyes, Erestor had trouble breathing.

“Yes, free. To do anything you want. You have been taught and trained well enough to be a scholar in a king’s palace. Or, run your own business as a merchant or scribe. With a little practice you could even become a Steward in a House, or a Seneschal. What would you do if you were free?”

Erestor stared back, mouth open and speechless, mind completely blank. He had always expected to simply die one day when he finally caught an arrow or sword point in service to Lord Maedhros.

“Well then Little Erestor, I give you complete freedom from service and your oaths. Will you follow my sons and help keep them safe? Or will you run fast and far to where none have ever heard of the Oath and live your days in peace?” Lord Maedhros stepped back and walked to the other side of the tent and threw himself onto the bench across from his brother. 

Lord Maglor looked up at Erestor. He giggled lightly, tears running down his face and said, “Run fast and far Little Erestor.”

Erestor broke and ran. 

He ran out of the tent and down the encampment until he got to a stand of trees and threw up. 

***

Erestor trailed off into silence.

He still lay curled up, but into a little ball around his stomach, with Glorfindel’s arm loosely around him. Glorfindel could hear the slight huff of stress in his breathing and feel Erestor’s heart beating more rapidly against the ribs under his fingers. It was impossible to actually hear what Erestor was thinking or feeling, he had completely and almost painfully blocked their bond. 

“Erestor? You don’t have to tell me. Let me get something for us to eat instead.” It was time to stop. Glorfindel only wanted a few stories about the past, not to upset Erestor this way. 

“Let me up for a minute?” Erestor uncurled and slithered out of the bed over Glorfindel. Staggering slightly, he went into the washroom. The pain from bruises and strained muscles immediately returned when he wasn’t lying there next to his pain-blocking mate but he needed a break and the toilet.

Glorfindel stared at the closed door, then started putting on his boots before calling, “I’m going to the kitchens for a moment.”

When he returned with a tray of lunch, Erestor looked a little better and was seated on the couch. Lunch was eaten in complete but companionable silence.

When they were done Erestor stood and limped back into the bedroom. Glorfindel followed as Erestor sagged back into the bed with a sigh. 

Erestor looked up at him expectantly and he crawled in again. Erestor curled up against Glorfindel again.

Then he said, “I want to finish the story, there isn’t much more to tell.”

***

Erestor climbed a tree to think a little undisturbed. As he watched the stars drift past and the Vingilote with the Silmaril fly overhead he realized that the whole game was planned and set into motion much earlier than he ever imagined.

Select a loyal, intelligent soldier and somehow make him very attached to Elrond and Elros. Make sure the soldier was trained to be useful to them somehow. And then, when they gave the Twins up (which they always would have eventually), set the soldier free to hopefully be a caregiver and protection where they could not. 

Even seeing how he had been used, Erestor couldn’t find it in himself to resent the plan. And they explicitly said he was free to make his choices. 

Choices…. In the end, the choices were easy. 

He climbed down, went to his tent and quickly packed everything he would need. He left behind anything decorated with a Feanorian star and crept through the sentry lines into the night without a backward glance. 

The next day, Elros and Elrond were dragged kicking and screaming to King Gil-galad. Elrond’s first reaction when Gil-galad tried to untie him was to bite him on the arm hard enough to draw blood. While Gil-galad tried to get his arm back, Elros kicked him in the shins repeatedly. The King was forced to assign guards to keep an eye on the pair, lest they escape. Rumor had them making escape attempts on a daily basis. 

One month later, Eonwe’s camp was full of the dead, Maedhros was dead, Maglor vanished. The Oath had claimed its last victims.

It took two months for Erestor to figure out how to sneak far enough into the encampment to get to Elrond and Elros. He had started to get desperate as he heard the rumors. Since the attack on Eonwe’s camp, Elrond and Elros barely ate, didn’t talk and lay curled together unmoving on their pallets no matter what the king and his advisors tried. 

There were accusations and suspicions of how the Feanorians had tortured them, with some truly lurid gossip making the rounds. Some of the elements of Gil-galad’s court were calling for anyone who had ever worn or carried one of the Feanorian stars to be tried, using Elros and Elrond as the excuse. A few were clamoring for those trials to end in executions. 

Erestor wondered if that really made them any better than the Kinslayers. 

No one pointed out that the Elros and Elrond were slowly adapting to being wards of the King until the Feanorian attack on Manwe’s camp, Maedhros’ death and Maglor’s disappearance. 

It was easy to slip back and forth over the sentry lines around the outer camp: it was huge and complex, with elves, Men, dwarves and Maiar coming and going all hours of the day and night. He was too visible as a soldier, so stealing a uniform wasn’t an option. In ragged clothing and his hair pulled into a simple braid he could pass as a lesser servant in most of the camp. 

Getting into the center of the encampment, where the King and other elf lords were located was much more difficult. All of those servants, the elf lords and their families were known on sight by handpicked guards. King Gil-galad didn’t seem to have any intention of letting Elrond and Elros out of his sight and reach. 

Rumor had it that there were already offers from different minor lords to foster the peredhel twins for the King. And rumors that the pair were fading, too abused by their time with the Feanorians to survive. 

To give the King credit, rumor did have him spending large amounts of time visiting the pair and trying to comfort and make friends with his new wards. Erestor listened to the rumor while washing dishes in one of the military kitchens and wondered if this was the King’s first interaction with children.

_“keep them safe”_

He needed to get in there to Elros and Elrond, if only to let them know he was alive. It was the only thing he could think of that might help. Hopefully, he could figure out a way to get out again too: he was pretty certain his sudden execution as a Feanorian assassin would traumatize the pair further. 

Finally, a chance came. One of the petty lords in the inner compound had a party. After hearing about the party, he scouted out a cook’s apprentice who was visiting the baths, stole his clean set of livery and made sure a distraction was in place so that the apprentice wouldn’t notice he was missing until at least dawn. 

In the bustle he walked right in, carrying a crate of wine. He set the crate down in line with the others and slipped out of the tent and away through the dark. 

Elros and Elronds’ tent was right next to the King’s. With the noisy party as a distraction, he ghosted past the guard in front and under a side flap, hoping the Twins were inside. They were. They were curled up on one pallet, under one blanket, holding onto each other desperately in sleep. Erestor was appalled at the amount of weight and muscle they had lost. The Feanorians had worked hard to keep “their little stars” at a healthy weight and this was well under. 

He knelt down in the dark of the tent, “Elrond, Elros, wake up.” When they didn’t move he leaned in closer and repeated himself. 

They still didn’t move and Erestor was seriously alarmed. Finally, he reached out and patted the nearest shoulder, Elros. He shook it before he let go and petted Elrond’s hair out of his eyes. It took a few minutes of shaking and patting the pair, but finally Elros moved and blinked. 

Abruptly both twins were awake and staring at him in the darkness. They scrambled up in a tumble of blankets and ended up wrapped around him as they cried quietly. 

“We thought you were dead too,” whispered Elrond. 

“They told us everyone died,” whispered Elros.

He sat on a pallet in the dark with an arm around each. At 55 years of age, they were half grown and too large to fit into his lap, which is where both desperately tried to be. Squashed against him, he could feel all the bones that two months ago had been padded by muscle. He had stolen a satchel with lembas and some apples before setting out, for exactly this use.

They stayed that way, Elros and Elrond nibbling, through the changing of another watch. Erestor tried desperately to think of a way to stay with the pair. Sneaking in and out would increase his chances of capture and probable execution. As it was, he wasn’t certain that he was going to leave this tent at all. Elrond and Elros weighed enough that his legs were completely numb, shifting to ease sore muscles had resulted in whimpers and them hanging on tighter.

Before he had come up with a plan, Elrond said, “Erestor, you have to stay. Please don’t go.”

“Can you think of where to hide me? Feanorians aren’t exactly popular and I won’t do you much good dead or imprisoned.” He wanted to take the Twins and run, but that was not an option. Even if they could escape an angry King, they would probably have to out run the Valar too. And Beleriand was dying, there was nowhere to run. 

Elros said, “We are elf lords, we can have a House and vassals. We’ll proclaim Erestor a vassal of your House, Elrond.”

Elrond said, “Underage elf lords... My House? Why just mine?”

Elros had the abstracted tone of one staring off through space and time, “I will not need Erestor. I will marry, build, rule, raise a family and live in peace. You and Erestor will not have a place there.”

A few more tears trailed down Elrond’s cheeks as he stared at his brother. It was obvious the entire ordeal had broken more than their trust in the rest of the world. 

Erestor looked at Elrond’s tears and sighed, “Fine, I’m your vassal. But I suspect they’re still going to try and execute me.”

Elrond and Elros had eaten two apples apiece and a small stack of lembas when a bodyguard for the King stuck his head through the tent flap, stared at Erestor and barged into the tent drawing his sword. Fortunately for Erestor, Elrond and Elros reacted to the move by flinging themselves bodily onto Erestor in a heap on the floor. The guard put away his sword and tried to tackle and haul Erestor out of the tent as the King and the rest of his guards crashed inside. 

It didn’t work. While Erestor himself wasn’t fighting or struggling, the Twins were wrapped around him like a pair of black haired limpets as they yelled at the top of their lungs that the King wasn’t allowed to take vassals away. The bodyguards crashing around in the dark yelling didn’t help.

Finally, the King called off his guards and called for a lamp. Elrond and Elros stopped yelling but didn’t let go and instead stared up at the King with a pair of profoundly suspicious expressions. The King stared at them, and then around the tent, eyes finally alighting on the small pile of lembas wrappers and apple cores. 

Gil-galad motioned most of his guards out the overcrowded tent and sat down in a chair abandoned in the corner. “Elrond, Elros? It’s nice to see you up. How do you feel?”

Elros snarled back, “Erestor is ours. You can’t execute him.”

Gil-galad blinked, impressed at the level of emotion. “Okay, I won’t execute Erestor. And I won’t take him away, so why don’t you let go a little. I don’t think he can breathe like that.” 

Elros and Elrond uncurled just enough that Erestor could sit up. Then they tucked themselves against his sides again. Erestor kept an eye on the King and absently handed each of them another lembas wafer. 

Gil-galad’s eyes followed the motion as each twin took a wafer, unwrapped it, and stuck a piece in their mouth.

It was obvious to Erestor that Gil-galad was willing to agree to quite a lot in exchange for Elros and Elrond doing something OTHER than fading slowly before his eyes. Allowing them what was pretty obviously a Noldor, most likely Feanorian, soldier who was intent upon feeding them (rather than some sort of additional Kinslaying) was an easy stretch.

“Erestor belongs to the House of Elrond, he is my vassal so you cannot take him away or lock him up without my permission.” Elrond sounded very definite for an elfling with a mouth full of food.

That was true. The King forcibly taking a vassal away from an elf lord (even an underage one) would set an ugly precedent that would turn all the other elf lords against him. 

“Okay, but wouldn’t that make Erestor part of my House? Because you are my wards?”

Both twins snarled. Elrond said, “If we have vassals we aren’t wards.”

From his expression, Erestor could tell the King was trying to estimate the chances of the many homeless Feanorians ending up in the brand new House of Elrond, rather than with Celebrimbor, and how many Court factions would have screaming fits. At the least, any chance of buying treaties and alliances by fostering the Twins out would vanish. Gil-galad probably hadn’t put much store in that tactic though: Elrond and Elros had already proven that they would be difficult to manipulate into changing loyalties, thereby negating much of the value of fostering. 

With the Feanorians and his bloodlines, Elrond could very easily become one of the most powerful elf lords in his Court.

No matter what, eventually Elrond would grow up. If balked now, the homeless Feanorians would still appear but Elrond would not consider the King an ally. Better to try and appease Elrond AND as many factions as possible at the same time. 

Gil-galad leaned forward. “Let’s make an agreement. You can form the House of Elrond, but you have to stay my wards until you are of age. In exchange, I’ll give you an allowance to take care of your vassals.”

***

After Erestor had finished his story, they lay there in silence listening to the rain starting outside. 

Glorfindel listened to his mate breathe, quietly enjoying the feeling of him tucked against his side. Erestor had taken up his usual habit of gently carding his fingers through a lock of Glorfindel’s hair, twining it about his fingers absently. 

Thunder crashed in the distance and something inside Glorfindel twitched at the noise. He doubted he would ever stop that instinctive jump and internal wince at the noise, but at least it has gotten better over the years. Usually this time of day he would be working on personnel reports or setting up the plans for the Guard’s next training exercise: plenty of distraction from the storms. Out in the field, keeping the horses calm and safe had turned out to be distraction enough. 

He also knew that Erestor could feel every wince and so had agreed to stories specifically to distract him. 

He tugged Erestor a little closer and nuzzled his hair, emotional exhaustion was leaching down the bond to Glorfindel. “Erestor? Would you like me to tell a story next? Maybe about Valinor or Gondolin?”

Erestor blinked and shifted to stare into Glorfindel’s eyes. “Would it bother you, to tell a story about Valinor?”

Glorfindel smiled, “I have an older sister and a little brother, you know? We were all born in a house on the far outskirts of Valmar.”

Erestor nodded and settled in to listen.

“Well, you have to understand that while it was a fair-sized House, it certainly didn’t have a roof of gold or anything like that but it did have an exceptionally large garden because my parents loved to garden and watch plants bloom in the light of the Trees. Now one day, my older sister….”


	3. Something sweet to end the day.

The elf lord and lady had established their House on the far edges of Valmar as all the Vanyar settled in and spread out as they built. They cared very little for Singing to the Valar, roofs of gold or gates of bronze. Instead they loved the rippling play of the Light of the Trees, the iridescent effect of the silver and gold as it shone across the living world. They built a moderately sized House with a truly enormous yard and settled down in peace to raise their family. In due time they had three elflings. 

Glorfindel’s earliest memories were of lying on a blanket in the garden as his parents sat to watch the flowers bloom and grow, or carefully tended vegetables and coaxed the great trees around the pond to sink their roots deep. 

Glorfindel’s elder sister, Lawadis, also loved to garden and like many other gardeners, traded slips, cuttings and seeds with everyone she could. 

One day before the late meal she came bouncing into the section of garden where Glorfindel was sprawled watching the sky. Excited, she asked, “Laure, can you go with me to the House of Quiet Ducks tomorrow? The Lady there has promised offsets of a rare carnivorous plant and I will need help carrying it home.”

Glorfindel was taller than either of his siblings and more agreeable than his younger brother, as a result Lawadis often took him on her adventures so that he could carry plants and parcels. He didn’t mind, adventures with Lawadis were always interesting and if extended, she could be counted on to provide food. 

He didn’t take his eyes off the softly fluttering trees above him, any minute now the Trees would switch places in light and there was always a glorious minute where both silver and gold lit the sky. “How long will it take? I promised to meet friends for the main meal.” 

“Not long, it’s just that the Lady said that she started the offsets in those large feed bins with handles on each side.”

“That big? Where are you going to put this one?” Lawadis’s garden was stuffed full of many rare and bizarre plants with unusual blossoms and scents. They were not the most beautiful of flowers to bloom in the light of the Trees, and many of them smelled truly odd, but she loved them and tended her garden carefully. The House of the Quiet Ducks was only a few Houses down, too close to bother with a cart for one plant.

“It’s a swamp plant; I’ve been preparing a spot on the edge of my smaller pond. Apparently it needs sandy soil and clear water.” That explained the mud splattering her from head to toe. The smaller pond was spring fed, and unlike the larger pond, had no fish to dirty the water.

The next day Glorfindel and Lawadis carefully sloshed their way home, each holding a bucket handle. To Glorfindel, the bucket appeared to contain only thick layers of sand, with a skim of water on the top. He left the bin and an exuberant Lawadis to plant and hurried to change and meet his friends.

Truthfully, he forgot about the plant after that. Lawadis was always hauling him off to help carry new specimens for her garden. 

He also chose to actively avoid her end of the garden shortly thereafter. One of the stranger things she was growing had chosen to bloom. It was a clump of enormous corms, or squat bulb-ish tubers that normally grew a cluster of giant stalks with an umbrella frond of a leaf on top of each that shaded that corner of garden. The polka-dotted stalks towered two elves in height each summer, then died down to the ground with the first frost in autumn. This year they had grown a very rare bloom stalk as well and rare plant hobbyists from as far as Tol Eressea had come to watch the flower slowly open. 

As a result, that end of the garden was crowded with overexcited elves all jostling for a look. Glorfindel hid under the trees at the other end and tried to ignore the noise. Over the course of days, the bizarre yellow column of the center rose out of the bud and then the giant maroon and spotted flower unfurled. Fully open it was large enough to be used as a bath for the whole family. 

Glorfindel fled, and went on a riding hunt with his cousins into the mountains: the flower smelled like it had been dead in the sun for a week and the odor filled not only the whole garden but most of the neighborhood.

He was away for weeks, until he was very certain the smell was gone.

Winter came and everything was dormant and buried under a thin layer of snow. With spring, everything began to sprout again and he was busy planting and pruning with his parents in preparation for the growing season. The first sign of trouble came as spring began to turn to summer.

There was intense interest to see if the giant smelly corms would flower two years in a row and elves kept coming to examine the growing height of their fronds and stare at the ground for signs of bloom stalks. One elf commented as he departed that the plant by the pond had attempted to eat his cloak, waving in the breeze. 

***

There was an especially large boom of thunder directly over their heads and Glorfindel jumped, pausing his story. That one had been close enough that everything in the room jostled.

Erestor reached out and gently tried to pull Glorfindel’s head down onto his shoulder. Glorfindel wiggled away and frowned down at his mate. “I’m fine where I am. I know your ribs and shoulders still hurt and I am not so upset by thunderstorms these days that I need you hurting yourself trying to comfort me.”

Erestor cupped Glorfindel’s face in his hands, thumbs caressing cheekbones. “I know you are fine. What if I thought that was way too close and want you closer to me?” 

Glorfindel smiled and settled his head so that his nose was buried in Erestor’s hair next to his ear, rather than on bruises. It was hard to refuse his mate anything and completely impossible for him to not curl closer when Erestor demanded it. 

***

Lawadis laughed and said that evening at meal, “A plant that tries to eat cloaks? I think he drank too much wine before visiting!”

Glorfindel had never heard of a moving plant, but curiously went and stared at the plant. One year on, the plant was a gorgeous specimen overhanging the small pond. It was about half an elf tall and wide in a lush lime green bush. Each branch was a single large elongate leaf pad on a thin stalk. The only thing that made it special from his point of view was that the oval pads were covered in long red hairs, each with a clear drop of sticky dew so that the plant glittered in the light.

As he watched a butterfly, of the small white sort that if not Sung out of the vegetable patches eats the cabbage, landed in the dew drops. It was immediately covered in sticky dew and drowned, now food for the plant. There was no appreciable motion on the part of the plant. 

Summer progressed, and the plant on the edge of the small pond got a little larger until the outer fronds bordered the garden path and it hung well out over the pond. As the leaves aged they had gained faint lacy patterns in red, very pretty.

A week later Glorfindel was reading a book under the trees bordering the main pond when he heard his father scream from across the yard. The book went into the bushes as he scrambled up to see what had happened. 

By the time he got across the wide yard, his father was yelling instead of screaming. “Lawadis, what have I told you about plant placement?”

Lawadis yelled back, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know that it would eat more than bugs or mice, and I’ve never heard of a plant that moves that fast!”

Glorfindel skidded around the corner and onto the path beside Lawadis’s garden. Lawadis stood on the path, pulling on the fronds of the plant. It was tough and fibrous, and she wasn’t having much luck ripping them off or unwinding them from the plant’s latest prey, their father. 

He was wrapped up in most of the plant’s sticky dew drop leaves and suspended about two feet off the ground by the once again motionless plant. One frond had even wound dexterously around and around the long braids he wore while working in the garden. Glorfindel drew his belt knife and knelt to try and cut through the stems of the fronds. It was amazingly difficult to cut and he sawed with the knife, trying fruitlessly to do some damage. 

The rest of the House appeared in response to the commotion and quickly a debate started on the appropriate way to free their Lord.

The head cook said, “My Lord, can you breathe? Is the plant hurting you in any way?”

“I am just stuck.” He sounded relatively calm considering his head was halfway into the plant. “I think it has ceased motion and intends to simply digest me slowly from here. Lawadis, how do these things normally deal with prey in the wild?”

“Um, I think they die of exposure and rot onto the plant.” Lawadis sounded much more shaken and horrified than their father.

“I trust we can get me free before that eventuality.”

Their mother appeared with the large garden shears and they were handed to Glorfindel in place of his belt knife. By brute force he managed to snip through the frond stems one by one. Glorfindel was prepared for the fronds to whip out and drag him as well but the plant didn’t move through the procedure. 

Glorfindel’s little brother, Lorlindale, had wandered out of the house from music practice to see the commotion. He watched expressionlessly for a moment and then walked away without a word.

The servants all took sides and kept their Lord from falling farther into the plant as Glorfindel snipped. Finally, their Lord and father was dragged free and deposited well away from the plant and under one of the trees on a bench. Cutting the fronds off of the plant had not affected their ability to hold on to the unfortunate elf lord and he was still wrapped from head to toe in sticky green leaves.

Their mother stared before starting to laugh. “My Husband, you look like one of those steamed buns they sell in the marketplace!”

The bundle wiggled, “Ah, an elf filling roll.”

Lawadis was still pulling on the stuck leaves and was beginning to cry. “I don’t know how to get them off.”

Several buckets of water were produced and dumped over the elf lord bundle. The sticky washed off a little, but the leaves were still wound tight. 

The Steward said, “Maybe fire?”

Glorfindel’s father said, “I am beginning to feel more and more like I am a potential steamed bun.”

Lorlindale wandered back into the garden with the Lady of the House of Quiet Ducks. Both were carrying jars of salt, Glorfindel recognized one as from their kitchen. Lorlindale gave them all a tired look and said, “Unless you want salt in the garden we should move Father somewhere better.”

They stared and the Lady from the House of Quiet Ducks elaborated, “Enough salt causes the fronds to go limp and we can unwind him.”

Glorfindel’s father was quickly moved to a tarp on the back patio and the contents of the salt jars emptied on him. It was only a short wait until they were able to unwrap the elf lord and he squelched stickily away to visit the bathhouse. 

His only comment to his daughter was, “It will be your responsibility to move the path to a safer location.”

***

Erestor lay there and laughed, all stress gone. “Move the path? Not the plant?”

“Yes.”

They lay there listening to the rain, the thunder slowly moving off into the distance. Finally, Glorfindel said, “I left them with barely a word and didn’t even see them when I was re-embodied.”

“Do you miss them? Would you go back to Valinor?”

“Right now?” He sighed. “No. I want to see them and apologize for everything but I still have a mission here, even if I haven’t any idea what it is supposed to be. And I won’t leave you.”

Erestor carded blond hair through his fingers hair absently, “And I won’t leave Elrond. So we’ll probably all end up Sailing together someday.”

The discussion would probably have continued but they were interrupted by someone pounding with vigor on their hall door before simply opening the door to yell.

“Captain? Are you in there?” Glorfindel’s second in command was yelling from outside the entrance to their rooms. Since they had gotten married, their various underlings had been extremely cautious about barging anywhere the pair was alone. 

“Stop yelling and come in. We’re decent, what is it?” With that reassurance, she was willing to stand outside the bedroom door for the conversation. 

“Captain? Lord Elrond asked that you and Erestor get up. One of those lightning strikes damaged the Rose Wing of the Palace and we have been asked to help.”

“Help?” Erestor was already crawling out of the bed and rummaging for a clean overtunic and robes. 

“The strike blew up that giant cedar tree on the north side and the debris broke down a wall and part of the roof. We are needed for search and rescue and possibly firefighting efforts. King Gil-galad has also ordered Lord Elrond to take charge of inventory and supply control as they rehouse everyone in the damaged sections.”

“I’m coming.” As Erestor shimmied into clothing haphazardly, he noticed that the rest had fixed most of the aches. “Take me to Lord Elrond.”

As he ran toward the outer doors to help Elrond, Glorfindel ran the other way to the Guardroom to muster the Guard. 


End file.
